


When the World Fell

by Psalacanthea



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psalacanthea/pseuds/Psalacanthea
Summary: Were you here when it all fell?The veil, destroyed; the People, crying out for salvation.It came, for some.  Everything thrown together, spirits twisted into demons in an instant, vicious, but the elves had a Harbinger.  A Lady.She made the way gentle, she guided them to understand the spirits while the humans waged war against the ancient Elvhen and the demons their fears wrought.  She stood between the old world and the new, and let them fight. Until...The humans were dying, and she broke the battlefield, standing between humanity and destruction.  She asked for mercy- mercy for the humans.The Lady is the only thing standing between Fen'Harel and the humans.His greatest adversary.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), solavellan - Relationship
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

When the world fell for the humans, it rose for the Elvhen.

The children had given it a name, as children always did, making up stories and songs that spread more rapidly than the Hahrens' version. They called it the Time Before. When the world had been stone and not water, and their friends had lived on another side, separated by a curtain that the wolf had drawn over them. Back when there were more humans, and it was the People who were small and frightened, missing part of their selves.

The People liked the children's stories, about Fen'Harel and his veil, and how the world had been torn and then mended back together again like an old blanket. They made more sense than the truth, which was found in the Lady's eyes when no one was looking. Sad eyes, wise eyes, behind the Vallaslin she would not let the Other People remove, no matter their scorn.

Hahren said she liked the way it unsettled them.

They did not like to be called the Other People, but it was the name that they whispered. The Lady didn't mind, she always just smiled and listened to their stories. She liked the childrens' stories better as well, because they didn't hurt the spirits. It had taken some time for the People to learn how to not hurt the spirits, but the humans still struggled.

That is why they could not live freely, like the People. One of the girls from far away, an Alienage in Antiva, said that a human had turned her friend Kindness into a monster with his fear, and killed him. The story was just a scary tale to be told around the fire, because the Lady would not let that happen here.

The world was big and empty now, ruins where the spirits played and told their stories for the children, cities that were no longer dirty and cold, but full of memories and plants that eroded walls and cracked streets. They could have gone back to build cities for the People, but the Lady said that they should not. They should keep being the people they had become.

Instead, the People from the cities built villages where the wanderers would visit, small simple places built on old ruins instead of taking from what the humans had left behind. The spirits liked for the People to be there, where they once had been centuries before. The dead human cities were far too sad.

The Other People built cities, though. Or, they were building a city on the bones of Orlais. Grand and twisted and crystal, beautiful like a song. The Lady would smile sadly at that, and shake her head. It was not a happy smile. She was so strong, and so sad, and she loved all the People and the children. That's why she had saved them, when the Time Before came to an end. That was their favorite story.

The Lady called for the People all across Thedas, she rode from city to city and clan to clan and rescued them, taught them to understand the new world. She made the change gentle for them, showed them the way forward. She had done her best, for everyone...

But she could not save the humans.

To afraid, too wrapped up in their maker and demons, they killed so many spirits that the Lady had to drive them back, so that they would be safe. Tevinter was a place of great danger, as the humans struggled against the new world. The People could defend themselves quite easily, now that the world was one thing instead of two, and magic flowed like water.

Still, the Lady said the humans should not be killed. They could learn, in time. Compassion had taught her how to understand the spirits, and compassion was meant for everyone, not just the People. So the humans lived. The Other People often argued over it, but she stood firm.

The children loved the spirits, and taught the People how to love them, too. Perhaps one day the human children would find the way, too. They all agreed that was for the best, at their council. They called it the Da'len'al, just like the Hahrens had, because they were important now. The Lady would come to their council, and listen to their wisdom.

It made her smile. It was not a sad smile.

The Arlathvhen was bigger every time, and this time it spread across the Dirthaveran like ripples in a pond, with the village of Enasal in the center. Close enough that some of the Other People had visited, in their aloofness, but some coming to share and seek knowledge, or pretty things. Few enough that each one lured a pack of staring children in their wake.

They all visited the Lady first. And when Fen'Harel and his people came, she went to meet them.


	2. Chapter 2

Posturing. He found it necessary even now, and she still found it tiresome. It did, however, keep a firm barrier between them, reminding her of duty and restraint. Duty and restraint and distance. Her mantra for these years. She still had a people to save, in the ruins of his world.

It was hard to hate the robe because it was beautiful, and because the children were delighted when she dressed up, even if it was cumbersome. The ardency of their adoration worried her sometimes, made her think of the future and the stories of the Evanuris. No, she would not let herself become that. She had made a promise. She wanted their love, not their devotion.

“Thank you, Orana.” She murmured softly as the woman slid the silvery, delicate under robe over her head, lacing her into it before reaching for the woven veridium overdress.

Heavy, but such things hardly mattered any more. Once it would have. The metal had been spun into tiny threads, and then woven into a sort of lace, vines and leaves, and delicate flowers inlaid with sylvanwood. She held still as her hair was swept back and twisted into the simple circlet that matched. She'd drawn the line at anything remotely resembling a crown or helm.

“There you are, my dear Lady.” Orana declared, her voice much less timid than it had been a few years ago. Having something to protect had done her a world of good. Something to protect and someone to love.

A gentle hand pressed to the former slave's swollen stomach was rewarded with a little kick, and she smiled wistfully as Orana laughed.

“One more for the pack, soon. He grows quickly.” She declared simply, and then nodded to the woman, turning to face the clans and the old Elvhen waiting for her.

The children were first, of course, waiting to ooh and aah as she stepped out, fluttering spirits amongst them. She smiled in amusement, and gave a little turn for them.

“Do the da'len approve?” She asked meekly, amusement hovering at the corners of her mouth.

“No! Lady, you need flowers!” The latest little ringleader declared, all curly copper hair and a stubbed nose. Ferelden, she thought, and tried to remember her name as she penitently knelt for them.

Ember. That was right. Little Ember with her loud voice and her surprisingly gentle magic. She would be a healer. As she waited, a little group of them scampered up to gather flowers. This time of year there were plenty, and they returned swiftly. Swarming over her like busy little insects, they wove flowers into her hair with no rhyme or reason, plaiting little braids, some with more success than others.

The colors clashed and cluttered, a few petals crushed so that she could smell the sweet perfume drifting from near her temple. She wouldn't sacrifice this for anything. She had lived the other life, seen the price of religion and devotion. Cold and frightened and distant, on a pedestal and yet hated. She still had nightmares about what the humans and their Maker had done to her in those years when she had tried to save them from this world.

This. This was better, with sticky fingers and little voices laughing.

That it had come with so much loss and suffering, that was her great regret. She was still kneeling amongst the children when Abelas came to fetch her. Some of them drew back meekly at the sight of him, as they did every time. She hadn't been quite able to convince him to stop frowning all the time. Little Ember was the last to leave her side, scowling up at him as he extended a hand.

Rising to her feet with the hand, shedding loose petals and a few stray blossoms, she offered a slow smile. It was not returned, but she never stopped trying.

“I hope I have not kept them waiting.” She remarked, because it was something to be said and not because she met it.

The daisy chain that had been pressed into her other hand she was tempted to throw around Abelas' neck. She had done it before, and he'd tolerated it, but needling his dignity in front of Fen'Harel was probably not wise. Instead, she slipped it over her head to let it dangle between her breasts, and then turned to blow the children a kiss before heading off.

“No more than they deserve. They know that the Arlathvhen is busy.” His much longer legs kept a slower stride for her sake. “I doubt he would have come unless it was important.”

“Yes. Well, I will try not to tax his patience overmuch.” They shared a look, hers amused, his dour. The sentinels resented him even now, but she couldn't blame them. She never would, and she was grateful they had been by her side. To realize Mythal was alive, only to lose her again...

“You know what this is about. The delivery will be here this evening, there will be no way to hide it from him.” His warning was without much force, and she smiled, tipping her head as they paced through the trees.

“Hmh.” She agreed simply, and then fell into silence as they reached the ruins where council seating had been set up for the Hahren'al. They were already there, and seated, but they politely rose as she paced up the cracked marble stairs, crumbled by tree roots.

Her heart thudded heavily, as it always did when she saw him again. This time it hurt a little less, but it was just as intense as it had been the first time. She wondered if she would ever stop loving the Dread Wolf. The gaze that met hers was cool and appraising, though she thought she might have seen a brief flicker of amusement. Probably the flowers, she had a feeling that scarlet, purple, and faded pink was not a combination in fashion with the Elvhen.

Cole and Hope were already there waiting for her, and she was delighted to see that Wisdom had come with his contingent. She offered the delicate spirit a brilliant smile of welcome, far more genuine than the formal gesture to Fen'Harel. Wisdom offered a bow of her head in response.

“Good day to you.” She greeted, skipping the formalities as she moved for her seat at the head of the table. His at the foot, of course, settling them prettily in opposition. Keeping her as far from him as possible. “I hope your journey was pleasant and swift.”

“Yes, and thank you for seeing us so quickly. I am sure that you are extremely busy.” He replied, perfectly pleasant as well, though the censure was plain.

He'd always cared for this nonsense more than her. She wondered if he knew she only played along for his sake. Matching wits with him was as thrilling as ever, though, and she tried not to indulge too much in that. It brought up too many old, dead memories and feelings. Better to be neutral.

“Always more things to be handled.” She agreed, and then fell silent, expectant.

“I noticed that the last of the blighted lyrium has been cleansed from the area. You have our thanks, of course.” Ah, so it was to be pleasantries.

She offered a smile, shaking her head lightly. A flower slipped from behind her ear to flutter to her lap.

“I assure you, we do it to keep our people safe as much as anything. And how goes your work on that front?” Her voice remained pleasant, while she reminded her mind again at his answering smile.

_This is not your love._

“We hold our borders well, thank you. And, on the topic of borders...”

Ah yes, here it was.

“I received word that some of your people crossed the into Tevinter. I hadn't any word from you, I was curious what precisely they were doing there.”

“So kind of you to be concerned.”

Concerned? Her expression was still that perpetually bland, barely pleasant facade she always kept with him. It made one feel as if she was utterly bored by them, a fact that had always rankled with all of his people. Distrust or hatred he could understand, her sympathies were obvious and numerous. But she always seemed as if he was some minor inconvenience, as if her mind were somewhere else every time he spoke. She had been not at all what he had expected from a self-proclaimed Lady of the People.

The spirits gave him little on her, they seemed oddly protective of her secrets and her thoughts. The Lady was a strange creature. He had known that from their first meeting, her refusal to give him a name to call her by. He would be eternally grateful that she had saved so many of the broken remnants of the people, though he had a feeling that if he said as much, she would laugh scornfully. They might be ignorant, and superstitious, but they were still descended from the Elvhen. It made no difference if she believed that he cared or no.

He had no doubt that her people would tire of the simple existence she had imposed on them, and would eventually join the Elvhen. For now they simply coexisted, uneasily for the most part, as he attempted to ascertain just what the mysterious Lady intended.

“We had agreed that the humans are far too dangerous to be interacted with. We have respected your wish to have them be left alone, I will remind you. My people have stayed far away from Tevinter and Rivain.”

“ _My_ people were simply acquiring a delivery from an old friend of mine.” She responded smoothly, with another of those false, strained smiles.

He knew what her true smiles looked like, when she greeted the spirits, when a thought amused her in what she thought was a private moment. She had never offered one of them to him. Their interactions were sterile.

“And I am certain you know why that is not a good enough answer for me.”

“Yes, Fen'Harel.” Her voice always said that so oddly, carefully tripping over each syllable. Old superstitions, he would think, but that didn't fit with what little he knew of her. “I am aware. The delivery will be here this evening. You may inspect it at that time, if you wish.”

“We would hardly wish to impose upon you.”

“It is the Arlathvhen. There is no imposition. You may even join the council meetings if you are at all interested. Better to hear such things first hand, don't you agree?” Her inflection had not changed, but he found the offer strange.

She had never made one like it before, and she was giving him no clues as to why. Curiosity tugged at the corners of his mind. It would be better to know the state of the people, as they called themselves in common now, and how they were feeling. All the better to ensure they didn't give in to baser impulses and attack his decimated Elvhen. Their magic may have been stronger, but their numbers were far too few to risk it.

“Thank you, Lady, I believe I will accept your kind hospitality. Perhaps we can speak again tomorrow?” He suggested, fully expecting her to do as she usually did, and disappear to her aravel the moment they had stopped speaking.

“I have a very important council meeting, actually. You are welcome to join me, though I doubt your men will find it interesting.”

The sentinel in Mythal's Vallaslin gave her a sidelong look that she ignored, and his curiosity only doubled. What was in that offer that drew the disapproval of her silent, scornful guardian? He still could not quite understand why the former servants of Mythal followed her, and did not return to their people. The spirit of Compassion that always traveled at her side leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Yes, Cole, of course you may come.” She agreed with him, and smiled then, as she never would to him. “And Hope as well. The council will be delighted to see you.”

“I will come as well.” Wisdom decided, surprising him yet again.

As the Lady rose, he did as well out of habit, but with some confusion lingering yet. This had not gone at all like their previous interactions. Up until now, he had thought her rather predictable and frosty, which was admittedly at odds with the heroic feats her people attached to her. The tangle of garish and rumpled flowers in her hair shed a few more blossoms as she moved, quiet Hope catching one in her insubstantial, gilded fingers and offering it back to her.

Again, she smiled, and he became aware yet again of how charming and free it was. The Vallaslin she stubbornly wore detracted from it, of course, like a reminder of his own failures writ on her flesh. Mythal's markings, like those of her Sentinels. His guilt twofold. Perhaps she knew of the sacrifices he had made to create this world, though he did not know how she could.

He had done what he had to do, in the end, and this was the world he made. They might despise him, but they had survived and must be protected. Even from themselves, if necessary.

“Come. The council may have started without us.” She said abruptly, and strode off, long skirt fluttering. He gestured his men back to their camp, and turned to follow her. He was in no danger here.

As he left with the Lady, he could feel the sentinel's glare on the back of his neck like a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am only reposting this, so the editing may lack something <3 Sorry!


	3. Chapter 3

She said not a word to him their entire trip through the trees, greeting people they passed, always remembering names. He was curious as to why Wisdom had insisted upon coming, but pleased all the same. It had been quiet all too often as of late. It was good to simply travel with his friend again, to speak of things they passed and discovered, or rediscovered.

He was drawn out of his pensive thoughts by a nearing babble of noise, bright and cheerful and above all...young. The clearing they entered was rather large, and wholly ringed by children. After the quiet serenity that was the new Arlathan, it was...jarring. He wasn't even aware the people had so many of them, there had only been two births amongst the Elvhen in the last ten years since they had awoken, and each one had been treated as a miracle. But here they were, dozens upon dozens of them, all pointed ears and dirty knees, with a few spirits settled with them.

“Welcome to the Da'len'al.” The Lady called over her shoulder to him, the smile on her lips warm, but not meant for him. No, it was meant for the children, who gave little cries of delight and welcome as they caught sight of her.

Hope immediately left her side, drifting off to join a small girl with a pensive expression, though the spirit of Compassion she called Cole remained close. The children were shuffling open a space for her in their circle, when the first one caught sight of him.

“It's the Dread Wolf!” The freckled little boy exclaimed, more shocked than frightened. In fact...none of them seemed frightened by him. He found himself somewhat unsettled by that. “The Dread Wolf's come to the Da'len'al!”

“He comes to seek your wisdom, my council. Will you let him stay?” The Lady asked, persuasively sweet, and for the first time he understood why they followed her. She was alive now, in a way he had never seen her, not the aloof Lady who puzzled him with her cold smiles while she demanded compassion for the humans.

“Yes, he may stay!” A small, puckish little creature with tangled red curls declared, over a few protests. The vote was very noisy, and went on for several minutes while the Lady waited patiently.

It was almost enough to make him smile.

“But he isn't to play tricks or et anybody! Or the Lady will set him on fire!” The verdict was finally rendered, and she turned her sober gaze to him.

“Lord Fen'Harel, do you solemnly swear not to play any tricks or eat anyone?” She asked him with a careful ceremony, not mocking the childrens' seriousness.

“Yes, Lady. I solemnly swear that I shall avoid all tricks and eating people, though cakes stand very little chance against me.” A mild bit of levity, but the situation seemed to call for it. She seemed...less than amused.

For a moment her smile went tense, and then faded altogether as she turned to settle down in the circle, heedless of her white dress and its delicate decorations. In her sudden returned distance she was silent, watching him discreetly sidelong. Likely to see if he'd unbend enough to sit on the ground. Careful in the ceremonial armor, he followed suit. His willingness didn't seem to return her to good spirits, her lips pursing together before she turned to face the 'council'.

“Who is Speaker today?” She asked, and then nodded as the very loud little redhead lifted her hand. “Ah. Speaker Ember, I had thought as much. Are there any worries I should know about, Speaker?”

“Yes, only the midwife said Senna gets two brothers, and that's not fair because SOME people don't have any. Some people only get sisters, so Senna should trade, shouldn't she?” The little imp declared, and the Lady chuckled softly.

“I think that perhaps some people who wish to have brothers should ask Sennas' mamae if she will need help with the babies. Three all at one time is a great many, since her sister is very small, and it is better to be helpful than jealous. We are all one people and family, after all.” It wasn't a chide, just a musing, and more than a few of the children nodded, making exaggeratedly thoughtful noises.

“Babies are dumb!” A gangly little girl across the circle declared, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Emby said she'd talk about magic, not babies!”

“Oh! Has someone found their magic?” She extended her hands to the circle, beckoning to the center. “I should like to see. Then I can tell you who will teach you!”

Suddenly, this little bit of playacting was making sense. It was very unlikely that the people had much experience handling the newfound surge in magic, especially in the younger children. It would have to be monitored, carefully, while the adults came to grips with their own abilities.

It wasn't a facet of all of this that he had given much thought to, for all he knew their abilities had been stunted from living away from the fade. Certainly, they were less powerful than the Elvhen, but it seemed even the least of them had found something.

Or the smallest.

The boy who stepped into the circle was shy and very young, with a thick shock of black hair and a flush in his cheeks.

“It is quite all right. Will you show me?” The Lady urged him gently, offering both hands to him. “Remember...just a little. You only need to show a little. Think a small thought. Do you have a friend to help you?”

The boy nodded his head rapidly, and to his great surprise, a rippling spirit tinged a dark violet parted from the crowd. Now he focused. She had brought him here to show him something, and not simply the rather charming little council. Their interactions had all been political and surface, and sometimes utterly antagonistic...but she did nothing without a reason.

“Hello, Joy.” The Lady greeted the spirit warmly, and a little burst of laughter in the air straightened the boy's thin shoulders. “Thank you for helping him. Now, let us see what you can do with your friend here to help you. It's all right, we all had to learn this way.”

That drew his attention, a head tilting aside to watch her for a moment, her own eyes never leaving the boy. He focused, lips pushing together, his slender fingers shaking a little. Nerves, it must have been, because there was nothing wild about the tiny surge of magic. Strangely controlled, and very deliberate. That was not what he expected out of the primitive people.

Around the boy's bare feet, the grass abruptly rustled, growing and tangling around him. The little burst of magic stopped, and his cheeks flooded red as the children all cheered for him, as enthusiastically as if he had summoned a lightning storm.

“Excellent!” The Lady enthused, giving a clap of her own hands. “You did so well! You see, da'len, what happens when you are not afraid of your magic? Excellently done! I will speak to your mamae, and we will find someone to teach you. I'm so very proud of you!”

As the children started chattering and showing off to one another, she finally looked at him, gaze cool and distant again. The one he remembered so well. It was a pity, in a way.

“We had no one to teach us.” She informed him, quiet and calm. “When the world fell, and you changed everything. Not even the Keepers truly understood it all, and it was too dangerous not to control. It could have killed us all. The spirits saved us, Fen'Harel.”

A pause then, as she began to rise, shedding more flowers. A wilting, pale pink blossom fell onto his armored thigh, and he picked it up, spun it between his fingers contemplatively.

“You returned to save them, and abandoned us. What if your new Elvhen betray you as well? Become corrupt, become weak. Will you abandon them?” She stared down at him, and he could not meet her gaze. “Who are your people, and what are you willing to sacrifice for them?”

When he gave her no answer, she turned and left.

Eventually the laughter became too much, and he did as well.


	4. Chapter 4

The evening was cool, but busy, every camp fire holding a different song, a different story. The Lady drifted amongst them, as she always did, pausing to listen to a tune, holding a quiet conversation. Another three clans had arrived, and the gathering was complete, the good cheer in the air magnified by it.

They had lost no clans this year. They had more children born than people lost. It was a worthy celebration. The rash of big bellies at the fires was cause for much amusement and joy, and from the look of things, there would be even more in a few months. It filled her heart with contentment. The people were flourishing, at last. It was their first year they had not been in decline.

“Settled with just your daughter?” She teased Abelas, pausing at the sentinel's fire to steal a drink from their cask. “The amount of doe eyes being sent your way is astounding, falon.”

“She grows well.” Abelas replied blandly, golden eyes shifting aside at her. “A sturdy five years. I have done my duty, Lady.”

The implication was clear, and she just laughed, lifting her cup for a small sip. A little sweeter than she liked, but the burn was pleasantly warming.

“Ah, but these are all my children, Abelas. And soon I shall have two dozen more. They are close, are they?” She smiled as he gave her a simple nod, and her hand reached out to tug the end of his braid, ignoring the slight narrowing of his eyes. “Good, good. I do wonder what the Dread Wolf will think of my experiment. Are his people still avoiding us?”

“They were taken dinner and were pleasant, for them. They speak with the spirits, but not the people.” A slight pause, and then he hesitantly added, “You think this is wise, even now?”

“The children or bringing them in under Fen'Harel's nose? Yes to both, I suppose. I would rather do it before him than behind him, and unless I know him less than I believe...he will eventually see wisdom.” She swished the cup in a slow circle, gazing contemplatively into the night-darkened liquid.

“Fortunate for you that he brought Wisdom with him, then.”

“Is it? Now I wonder what has brought my name to my ears.” The flickering green edges coalesced into a form as a spirit joined them just outside of the reach of the firelight. “Lady. Sentinel.”

“Wisdom.” She sighed, and then smiled. One more reminder that she had done the right thing, at least in some aspects. She still remembered his grief, when his dear friend had died. “I am afraid I have created some mischief for your companion to frown over.”

“He frowns often enough without his burdens being added to, but much of what he carries he has put upon his own shoulders.” The spirit replied, voice smooth and fluttering, rising and falling. “But that has always been his way, as you know, Lady.”

The spirits never told her if they completely understood what she had done, and she hadn't bothered to poke at it. It seemed less than decorous, since most of them did not pry about her. There were, of course, exceptions. Especially one large, glaring exception. She wondered where he was.

It might be a bit much to hope that he was harassing Fen'Harel.

“Well, this is my burden, my recompense for what I could not do. If he disapproves of it, it is his own choice.”

“That is a truth.” Wisdom agreed placidly, and then tilted its head at a sudden burst of chatter. “Your delivery is here, Lady.”

“Ah, excellent.” She replied, dipping her head to the sentinel and the spirit, beginning to follow the sudden flow of the crowd. The children always heard first.

Swirling around her like a stream around a stone, they burst ahead of her into the darkness, tugged on her, excitement making them heedless of propriety. She adored it, swinging up a little towheaded Rivani girl, who giggled and clung to her hair as she perched on her shoulder.

She could see the wagons past the last of the camps, beyond where the Dread Wolf and his men lingered. She gave them no glance as she walked past them, girl on her shoulder, a smaller one clinging to her split skirt. The edges of spirits wove in and out of the crowd, faintly lighting the way.

“Lady, it's the storyteller.” The little one close to her ear whispered, and she smiled brilliantly.

“Yes, da'len. It's the storyteller. He's brought new brothers and sisters to the family.” The small arm around her neck tightened, and she became aware of Fen'Harel's approach, picking up his stride to catch up with hers.

It had been too much to assume he would wait, she supposed. It was extremely tempting to shift her little burden onto his shoulder...but that would be admitting she knew he would enjoy it. How long had it been since he'd had a proper hug from a child?

“Your delivery has arrived, I assume?” He inquired, and then met the sudden scrutiny from her little shoulder-passenger. She had a particularly searching gaze, with owlish brown eyes. “...Hello, da'len.”

“You're bald. How c'n you be a wolf if you're bald?” The little creature asked him, and he blinked, twice.

It was all she could do to stifle a laugh. No. Keep some distance. Distance.

“That is an excellent question.” He finally replied, after regaining his composure. “How can you be a da'len, if you are so tall?”

“I climbed up the Lady.”

“Ah, well, a very sensible answer, da'len.” It seemed to have sufficiently distracted the child, who wriggled to be released.

Swinging her down, she released her and watched as she pelted off to join the very short crowd bothering the tired, but cheerful-looking dwarf standing in the middle of a pool of light. More lines on his face, more gray in his hair, the thick glasses sliding down his nose. She scanned him over critically, as she always did when he managed to find a way to visit. Poor Varric. The past ten years had not been kind to the dwarves, but he was still smiling.

“The storyteller, I take it?” Fen'Harel inquired, and she breathed in shortly

They had been friends once, and it pained her to hear him ask that now. He would never know how much, however. This was not the first time she'd been through something of this sort, and it would not be the last.

“An old friend. Varric Tethras.” She replied, voice a low and thoughtful murmur. “Bringing to me a very special gift.”

“And what gift would that be?” He inquired, their conversation becoming cool and distant without the child between them as a buffer.

“A future.” She replied, as the first of the nervous, shy little children peeked out of the back of a wagon. “A future for the humans, Fen'Harel.”

The implications of her words sank in, and his frown was instant as the thin and bedraggled human child nervously slipped out of the wagon, his hand twisted tightly with a smaller girl's. For a time he merely watched, as they trooped out. Gauging their reactions to the lingering, curious spirits. Waiting for signs of corruption, of warping.

The Lady was likewise poised and silent, and he became aware of the lingering people just outside of the light, hints of reflective eyes in the darkness. It seemed she was wise enough to take precautions, at the very least. Still, the sheer enormity of what she was doing was both baffling and infuriating

Any one of these children could be the death of these gentle, harmless spirits, and she had slipped them under the nose of the Elvhen. Arrogant, at the very least, and willfully negligent at the worst. After the humans had massacred countless numbers of them, and not just in the last ten years, but over the centuries, she had somehow decided without consulting them to...to import them.

“You lost so many people driving them out. The war is barely over, you have barely found your peace.” He simply could not comprehend it, anger and confusion in his voice. “And now you bring them back in? To what end? Misplaced...misplaced guilt?”

“You would know much about that, would you not?” Her words were gentle, but pointed as a blade. It did little to quell his unease. “Half of the humans are children, starving to death, Fen'Harel. Children are innocent. Children do not look at a spirit and see a demon. They see a spirit and ask it what it is. They learn, they grow.”

“Even the young can be corrupted. Such mindsets are insidious. You of all people should know that sometimes prejudice is rooted too deeply to be removed.” His voice was harsh now, angry with her presumption. More than just the children, but the tone in her voice that assumed to know how he felt, how he had suffered.

“They are my children now, and you will have to accept that.” Her own voice grew sharp, in a way it so rarely was with him. Usually she could not seem to care enough to argue with him. “They are my people now. Perhaps it is guilt. I promised I would save them all from you, and I failed. Just as you failed your people. My...definition of people is just somewhat broader than yours.”

The look she gave him sidelong in the darkness was witheringly scornful, and he was reminded then of their earlier conversation. Who were his people? Hers seemed to be more vast than he had realized.

“This is not your world, Fen'Harel. It belongs to all of us, including them. If you wish to censure me over this, kindly go back to your crystal towers and write me a scathing missive. You will find it a much safer endeavor.” The last two words she rolled on her tongue like a threat, like a grudge, and for the first time he looked at the Lady of the People with unclouded eyes.

She hated him.

Why had he not realized it before?

Before he could process the thought, she swept off to join the crowd, thick with spirits and curious children. They were...much alike, in their own ways. He could feel one of them at his shoulder now, and Wisdom gave a slow sigh.

“She will save nothing in her efforts to save everything.” He finally declared, hollow, the weight of history and his own choices heavy upon him. “I cannot let her destroy what I have saved in her attempts.”

“But...you can let her try.” Wisdom replied quietly. “And hope. Surely not all hope is doomed to failure, Solas.”

He had no answer for the spirit.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Story of Freedom**

When the world fell, some places fell faster than others, they say. Dark places, old places. Places that had always been home to demons and centuries of death and pain. Kirkwall was the first. She was always a broken city, and none of her spirits had survived being twisted into their darker selves, except one.

The Lady went to Kirkwall first, because she knew of the darkness it held. Kirkwall was born out of blood, blood of thousands of slaves, young mages, old evil rituals to whisper in the ear of the old gods. Some stains can never be washed away, and they infect everyone who touches it.

Or...almost everyone.

In the city the Lady found a brave storyteller and his friends to help her rescue the people, to take them far away.

There was the Champion, who had saved the city before, and understood that people were more important than buildings.

There was the Blade, who struck down slavers and profiteers with his righteous anger, and kept the people free.

There was the Keeper, who understood old wisdom and old ways, but had a young heart that loved the Lady and her cause.

There was the Protector, who used the Law as a shield to protect the people, even from themselves for the good of all.

Together they fought to free as many people as they could from the darkness of Kirkwall, before it rose and swallowed them whole. They saved many, but even more were lost, and the storyteller wept to see his beloved city beyond saving. The Lady had decided to call down the fire upon the city, to cleanse it so that one day something new could be born from its ashes. But the storyteller stopped her, then.

“It will be a long fight, but it is our fight. Can you say that there is nothing in Kirkwall left saving?”

It was a question she did not know the answer to.

And so, the Lady left them, and walked amongst the ruins of Kirkwall for a day, and a night. The demons did not trouble her, and the city opened its heart to her so that she could see everything it had been, and everything it could be.

She looked at the great statues of tortured slaves, and her heart was sad, and heavy. It was then that she thought again that Kirkwall was not a place worth saving. Pain built upon pain, what kindness could grow out of such evil memories?

“Look again.”

A voice spoke to her then, and she did as it ordered, looking again at the statue, the polished metal. And do you know what the Lady saw then, reflected back at her?

Her face. Her face marked by Vallaslin, which had been slave markings, and now she wore as a sign that the people were more than their history. Not marks of slavery any more, but marks of freedom, of loyalty and love freely given.

The spirit of Freedom laughed, and she understood.

One day Kirkwall would be saved. Because someone loved it, it was worth saving. She would create, and not destroy, and then there would be balance. So long as the wolf destroyed, the Lady would create. And so, the Lady and the Freedom of Kirkwall left the city together, and she made a promise to the storyteller.

“On day when the People are strong, we will heal Kirkwall for you. It is loved, and therefore it is worth saving.”

And the storyteller was glad.


	6. Chapter 6

The fire crackled loud into the sudden silence as Varric finished his tale, accepting a filled tankard from an appreciative listener. He grinned at her, and she tried not to frown too deeply in front of the children. She leaned in towards him, hands on her knees.

“Really, Varric?” She sighed, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of the around the fire, lowering her voice to a hiss. “That was practically mythology. You had to make me sound like a goddess of judgment?”

“Hey, c'mon, they love it.” The dwarf chuckled, leaning back in his seat and tipping back his tankard. “Kids eat that stuff up.”

“I liked hearing about me.” Freedom declared, and the Lady sighed again as the silvery spirit wrapped its insubstantial arms around her neck. The press of his magic gave her a small hug, and some of her irritation eased. She could never be angry with him, even if he did his best to drive her mad at times. “Don't be so sour. It's a good story!”

“See, the kid likes it!” Varric pointed out, and she sighed again as Cole nodded in agreement. “Both of 'em. Relax, would you? It's just a story.”

“It's more than that, you of all people should know that. You remember what your books did to the Fade? We've been over this, Varric.” Her words just got another grin, and she sighed again, gaze shifting up and across the camp, at a fire barely seen through the trees. “How far has this spread already? You know exactly what you're doing, don't you? ”

“Maybe...” He finally allowed, voice dropping. “Listen, it's already too late for him, we both know that. I mean...whatever you say about the guy not wanting to be a god, the fact of the matter is that he destroyed the damn veil. He destroyed the damn world. And right now there's a whole lot of people who basically think he's the worst thing since the Blight, and he didn't count on them still being around.”

“You're saying he's the new enemy of the Maker's chosen people?” The thought left a sour taste in her mouth. It was bad enough being the Herald of their god, what would they do to their enemy?

“It's...a little worse than that. It's going doctrine.” Varric finally admitted, and her heart sank. “Fen'Harel, the Adversary. It's getting pretty popular. It was only bad luck that the Black Divine didn't die and Justinia did. They've got no one else to listen to, now.”

“And I drove them all into Tevinter.” She groaned, frustrated. The common flowed across her tongue, so much less evocative than Elvhen, but so much more accurate right now. “Shit, Varric. Shit.”

“Yeah, that about covers it. There's nothing a few thousand or so humans can do to him, especially with the problems with the Qunari. He's not in danger. Yet. Rivain is still neutral.” She knew the concern in his voice was for her, not for Fen'Harel, and she appreciated it. She always felt more connected around him, less likely to drift off and let time slip through her fingers. “But frankly, it's looking less and less likely that you're going to be able to save everyone.”

He sounded so tired, and it broke her heart a little. Turning her head, she stared into his face, lips pursed together.

“I can try, Varric, I can try...” She whispered, another of her mantras. Another thing she had to keep saying, or lose her grip entirely. She could feel Hope watching now, settling down next to Cole. They always knew when she needed them.

“You're the only reason people are alive, no matter what the 'vints are saying about the subject. They still believe in you, y'know. It's the only reason I'm not over there right now trying to put a bolt through his neck.” He smiled, but it was dark at the edges.

The grim certainty of his voice made her sigh, and she lifted both hands to rub at her forehead. She couldn't even curse properly any more, could she? All the curses had become truths. Far, far too accurate truths. Calming her mind with the ease of practice, she let it all flow from her, back into the past where it belonged. That was then, this was now. She was not that woman any more, she was not the frightened Herald.

“And so you would make me an adversary to your Adversary, knowing full well that I am trying to save him. That I am trying to save you all.” She finally finished the thought that had began it, with a cold certainty in her gut. That's exactly what they were doing to her. And there was nothing she could do about it, because they needed her. “This is...the last thing I ever wanted, Varric. You know that more than anyone. If anyone so much as _breathes_ the word Andraste in my direction...”

“You made yourself the middle of all of this, Lavellan, when you set yourself up against him and decided not to kill him. This is better than the alternative.” His use of her name made her wince, and he gentled his voice. “Sorry. Hey. We've got to make the best of this. If that means I've got to start pushing a new narrative...”

“What kind of world will this be, Varric? I never wanted this.” She whispered, thin and forlorn. “Did I save him just to make him suffer? Did I save everyone just to make them suffer? Perhaps...perhaps they...we were all better off dead.”

“It wasn't your fault.” Cole whispered, voice always on the edge of breaking, even now. “He needs you now. They need you now. Every life is worth saving, bright and small, little stars in new constellations. This is better. This is better than what was, would have been.”

“Your plan's good.” Varric agreed, unphased now by it all, by the spirits he treated like people. She remembered a time he wasn't, and she smiled wistfully at the memory. “I mean, good for someone who's got centuries to spend working on it. My view's a little more shortsighted, though, and I'm seeing a whole lot of mess up ahead.”

“What then, in your shortsighted opinion...” She sighed, already dreading the answer. “Should I do now, Varric?”

“Get drunk, oh Lady of the People. Now is when we get drunk.” Varric replied, giving her a little pat on the shoulder.

She smiled, wanly, beginning to rise as Hope extended a hand to her. The spirit wanted something, and she never said no to Hope, who so rarely spoke. It had to be important.

“Get started without me, Varric, I'll be back soon. If you're going to tell stories about me fighting the Dread Wolf, can you wait until he's not literally across the way from us?” She adjusted her simple top, sighing a bit at his wry grin.

“No promises.” He replied, as expected, and chuckled as she turned to follow the spirit.

“I will go with him.” Hope told her as they wandered through the trees, gradually towards the Wolf's camp.

She realized halfway there where she was being led, but held back her gut reaction, which was to flee. Hope did nothing without a reason, she would have to be patient with the young spirit.

“You are the Hope of the People, ma da'vhenan. Why will you go with the Dread Wolf?” Curious, not chiding. A bloom of cautious optimism in her heart now.

“He needs me.” The answer was simple, quiet but firm.

“I know.” Her words came with a sigh of relief, though tinged with worry. She would miss Hope, her quiet support. “He always has. Why now?”

“He will be hated, again. It will make him falter. He wants to believe, but he cannot see how your way is better than his. He is grateful to you, but angry.” The spirit turned its head, bright gold and shimmering in the darkness between the camps. “He will not trust you, but he would never harm me. You wish for me to go with him, you always have. And if I go with him, then you will hope as well. And then the People will hope. And then the world. This is the best way.”

“Oh, my heart.” She sighed, the burden of new and painful knowledge lightened just a touch. “I wish that you could reach to every corner of Thedas.”

“One day we will.” Hope replied, serene and sweet. “Let us go see Solas.”

The spirit continued on her way and she followed, a melancholy smile on her lips now, heart's burden eased and yet deepened all at the same time. It always hurt her a little when the spirits said his name, knowing it would never pass her own lips again.

“Yes, da'vhenan, but he must not know it pleases me to have you go with him. That is important.” She warned the spirit quietly, as they headed into the Dread Wolf's camp.

He was well aware that he had started brooding at some point this evening, thoughtful contemplation giving way to less productive darkness. He always knew, because it was generally the point where Wisdom would leave him, the signal for him to start forcing himself back to relative calm and control. It was difficult to do tonight.

All of his expectations for the world had been subverted, and he had made the best of it all he could. Their borders held, their people rebuilt, new life had begun, and yet...old life clung on stubbornly, and thwarted all predictions. Their deaths were not what he intended, just an unfortunate side-effect of making the world right again. Their survival should make him glad, and it did, but...things grew more complicated by the day because of it.

Was this Lady his friend or foe, or something in between? Despite the hatred he now realized she felt, she had always been willing to work with him. Their arguments had reached resolutions, their negotiations compromises. That alone was reason enough to tolerate this new experiment she seemed set upon. His reaction had been...hasty.

His allies were too few.

What he was not expecting was for her to approach their camp, a gilded spirit wandering by her side. It was an easy enough thing to sense what it was, even if it hadn't been her constant, silent companion. Hope. A curious partner for a night's walk, especially in to the Elvhen's camp. He had given his men and women leave to join whatever festivities they cared to, and to his surprise many of them had gone. It made the camp quiet.

“Good evening.” It was the spirit who greeted him in Elvhen, not the woman. That was a surprise.

“Good evening to you, Hope. Lady.” He inclined his head to them both, after politely rising to his feet. Just because they did not stand on ceremony did not mean he should give up his own manners, after all.

“Hope wished to speak with you.” The Lady said, adjusting the cuffs of her embroidered tunic. The movements of her long hands were small, fluttering. Was she nervous?

“I wish to go with you when you depart, Fen'Harel. Please.” The spirit offered, voice thin, wispy. Feminine, as well, though its form gave no hint if it identified itself as such. It may have simply been an echo of what had created it.

His gaze shifted from the spirit, to the Lady herself. An odd request, from a spirit. Usually they went where they liked, if they were of a type to wander, and had no need to ask for permission. Not many were, they often stayed anchored to tend to whatever had created them, unless something nearby tugged their attention or disrupted them. Hope being a wanderer was not a surprise, but the fact that it wished to go with his people...

“It is not my place to speculate why my heart wishes to go with you, Fen'Harel.” The Lady said, somewhat stiffly.

Ah. The...sentiment behind it obviously made her as uncomfortable as he found himself so suddenly. The spirit was a part of her, or had attached itself to her as such. Her Hope, going with him. The layers of it were intricate, and he doubted either of them could truly uncover what it was meant to be. Only the spirit truly knew.

“It would be a foolish man to turn down Hope when it offers itself as a companion.” He finally replied, inclining his head.

The Lady's lips drew into a line, and she dipped her head to him in acceptance, mimicking his movement. For once she hadn't bothered to hide her distaste, and he wondered what it meant.

“You are always in my heart.” The Lady told the spirit, and then abruptly turned on her heel and stalked off, without another word.

The sheer rudeness of it startled him into silence, jaw tight for a few moments as he watched her form disappear into the darkness. Letting out a quiet breath, he turned his attention to the spirit, who was watching him placidly.

“I apologize if that was unpleasant for you.” He told Hope, mildly.

“It was not.” The spirit replied calmly, thin voice liltingly placid. He was not used to Hope so calm and quiet. “It is a good night for the Elvhen. Your people will flourish yet.”

He moved to settle back down at the fireside, puzzling over those words. Hope followed, her edges bleeding out into the darkness.

“Why do you say that, my friend?” He asked carefully, settling hands atop his knees. The Lady's rudeness still pricked at him, but it was hard to stay unpleasant. Hope was sorely needed in Arlathan.

“You will leave with more than you arrived with.” Hope replied, form somewhat more tenuous than Wisdom, but with a glowing center like the heart of a fire.

“Your company is greatly appreciated, and will be valued.” He agreed, finding his earlier unpleasant mood much mitigated.

“I was not speaking of myself.” Humor there, a little tendril of it, a little sparkle of laughter over the spirit's words. “Your people enjoy the Arlathvhen, Solas. Old metal forged into a new blade can make both stronger than they could be alone.”

It took him a few moments to divine her meaning. A somewhat enigmatic spirit, this Hope. When its meaning sunk in, he abruptly chuckled, surprised into the sound he had not made in some time.

“I...well...” He finally said, shaking his head lightly. “At least they are enjoying themselves.”

“They are, and they shall be. Your Arlathan deserves more laughter. More children. More small feet to run, hands to reach, and hearts to learn.” Hope told him, and he smiled, faintly.

Something else he had not done much of, as of late.

The thought struck him then, as he turned his gaze skyward. The Lady's hope, traveling with them. Hope of her people, becoming the hope of his. Old metal in a new blade, hmm? Well, the children would be welcome, there had been far too few born these last ten years. It had never been an issue when the Elvhen were numerous, and did not fear the passage of time.

The Lady's small council rose in his mind and he smiled again, barely.

They would be welcome indeed.

The children had long since gone to bed, collapsed in a pack somewhere among the camps with the elders watching over them. She was proud of how easily they accepted their new siblings, absorbing them without a care for their ears. Her careful tending of their future was bearing fruit, it seemed. Their refuge was the quietest corner part of the Arlathvhen, which was becoming rather noisy indeed. She thought in some amused part of herself that some of them were enjoying themselves to spite the Wolf, who still lurked at the edges of the gathering in his camp like the beggar at the feast. Well, if he was determined not to even make an attempt to enjoy himself, all the better. It was easier for her to have a good time if she didn't have to worry about behaving in front of him.

Dignity and manners be damned. Her people celebrated their survival as they liked, as free and loud as they could.

It was nice that she was still able to get drunk, though it took some work to keep it going. She was quite a few ahead of her companions by the time she began to feel it, but they easily kept her tankard full. The lilt of a Rivani fiddle drew her eventually from Varric's side, clasping his shoulder as she tipsily wandered off again.

Navigating the darkness was tricky tonight, though it wasn't the shadows that gave her pause. It was avoiding the trysting that made it a careful venture. Luckily Freedom had returned to her, and she followed after him as they sought the music of their People of Llomeryn. They had been the last to arrive, and she had yet to seek their company with the Wolf's arrival.

They greeted her with rousing shouts as she slipped from between the trees, and she smiled at the welcome, spreading her hands and bowing her head to their Keeper, an elderly seer with skin as wrinkled as it was tattooed. The music didn't stop for the cheer of greeting, and she laughed as she was tugged towards the circle by a young woman with a broad smile and startlingly green eyes against her darkly tanned skin.

Succumbing to the inevitable, she let herself be swept up, Freedom joining the dancing in its own fashion, a silvery shadow weaving between the bodies. She didn't know the dance, but it was easy enough to catch up with, her young partner patient and cheerful. Eventually all the spinning began to dizzy her, and she discreetly slipped out after a smile and a press of her hand to the girl's arm. Watching cheerful Freedom with the smile lingering on her lips, she moved to settle down next to the Seer, accepting the cup the woman passed her.

“My blessed Lady.” The seer greeted affectionately, giving her a light pat on the arm, stubbornly speaking the common tongue even now. “I wondered when you might be joining us.”

“I apologize for the delay.” She replied placidly, amused by the words that would have been censure from anyone else. “I assure you I'd much prefer this company to the company I found myself in earlier.”

“Ah, yes. The spirits have told me much. Chatty little things tonight, aren't they?” The old woman chuckled, short and boisterous. And then again, when the Lady sipped at her drink and nearly choked at the fire of it. “Strong stuff, m'girl! Only the best for the Arlathvhen. Did you come for an old woman's stories? Or perhaps to enjoy the company?”

She endured the suggestive elbow in her side with a laugh and a shake of her head, smiling and turning her gaze away from the dancing. Her eyes met the seer's dark, knowing ones, and she sighed.

“I would love to hear any tales you have to tell, seer. How fare the people of Rivain?” She lifted the cup again, but expected its ferocity this time, letting it burn down into her belly. There was only a little spluttering this time, a harsh clear of her throat.

“Oh, well enough. The Chantry is barely holding on, poor things, but there's a young sister there in the capital with a more...flexible mind. The last of the Templars we know of fell in Kont-aar, as far as we can tell. Place is sealed up tighter than tight. Bit much to hope the Qunari and the Templars finished each other off.”

The old woman's voice was undeniably bitter, and she couldn't bring herself to say anything about it. She had suffered far too much, and the fact that she was being pleasant at all to the Chantry was a relief. Sighing, she lifted her cup again, giving a small nod of her head.

“And the Raiders?” She asked easily, glancing sidelong.

“Behaving, behaving. Admiral Isabella's keeping her own sort of peace between the mainland and the islands, though I know some of the Armada's been givin' her trouble. Sends her regards, says you owe her a drink, actually.” Sliding a pipe out of her loose top, the seer began packing it, movements deft despite the slight tremble of her hands.

“I probably do. After the Arlathvhen I will go see her and Merrill, see if there's anything I can do. Rivain must be protected, especially now.” Her lips pursed, trying to hide the hint of fear. “If Tevinter falls...”

“You worry too much. Humans are tenacious critters. Then again...” The seer's eyes went distant, and she gazed off into the darkness, tucking the pipe between her lips. “Didn't expect things to be so...empty. You did well saving what you did, my Lady, but Antiva...well, getting off that ship made me real appreciative of what we went through.”

“Rivain saved itself.” She replied stubbornly, giving a rapid shake of her head. “Open minds and open hearts, Seer. You saved the spirits, and in so doing, saved yourselves. I'm just grateful the Chantry didn't manage to stomp out the old ways.”

“Their Chant is changing.” The seer replied deliberately, inhaling deeply as a hunter paused to light her pipe for her from the fire.

“Even there?” She asked, head bowing, a hand rising to her forehead. “Shit. I had hoped...”

“Did you really expect the world to just accept what he'd done? Come now, Lady. Your victory was the Wolf's defeat in the hearts of the people. Maybe if more had died, maybe if the people hadn't rallied around you, he could have changed their hearts. But now, no...” With a long exhale, the scent of elfroot spiraled up into the air.

“I changed everything.” The Lady agreed, giving a small, bitter laugh. “Is he the Adversary there, too? Such a clever title. Menacing and grand all at once. Making him less than, and more than a person. It seems I didn't do enough to keep Tevinter and Rivain apart.”

“That is not your place, Lady or no. The humans will only rise up against you if you try to divide them. And yes, that means they will infect one another. Whispers against you are easily silenced by gratitude, despite the war. Those who survived know how much you sacrificed to stop the deaths.” Clever eyes, clever mind behind them that put together the pieces she only had herself earlier. “So I suppose that's going to be your question to answer, isn't it? What kind of goddess are you going to be, Lady? Are you going to tame the Wolf, or kill him?”

“I am not a goddess.” She snapped, reflexively, and then groaned and leaned forward, fingers clenched around the cup. “There is...no word for what I am, because I am not anything. This is _not_ what I wanted.”

“It's what you have, Lady. Ask your Fen'Harel what happens when other people give you your mantle. Ask your Dreamer what the hearts of the People say. There's a clever human, your Dreamer.” The woman's voice was just a little smug, and she reluctantly smiled, despite the sickness in her stomach.

“The spirits tell you quite a bit.” She murmured, and then gave a long sigh, lifting the cup to drain it. A dizzy head was better than a restless one.

“Ah, well, I'm just an old woman. There's no harm in me, is there?” The seer chuckled, and then sighed at her snort of disbelief. “The People of Rivain are safe, and they thrive despite the tensions. We'll take some of your human children with us when we go, we have homes for them.”

“Thank you.” She murmured, and then paused, hesitantly. “And what...are they...?”

“Oh, there's a few. The Lady of Flame is popular, you know, with the whole Chantry implications. They're pushing that one hard. Some of them are even saying you're not actually an elf.” The seer chuckled at her expression, tolerantly. “Let them, it doesn't harm anything. The People know. Lady of the Skies is getting up there, too."

“Now I'm an Avvar goddess?” She asked in faint disbelief, and then sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course I am. And I'm probably Andraste and Mythal and Queen of the Nugs or something as well. What's the possibility, do you think, that this could just...go away. Fade out.”

“About as likely as you changing their minds about Fen'Harel. The world's no threat to him, and it won't be for a long time. There's only one threat to him, and that's you.” And then, she was reminded as she was every single day, pointed and calm. “It is you that will not kill him, Lady. All you can hope is that the world will remain too weak to do it for you.”

“Ah, no, that is not my hope.” She sighed, and then smiled at the seer's puzzled expression. “I will change his mind, and then I will change the world's mind about him.”

“A woman who wishes to change the mind of a once-god, and the entire world besides it...and says she is nothing.” Exhaling a chuckle with a cloud of smoke, the seer shook her head slowly. “The people know the truth of their gods now, and you hoped that it might protect you, didn't you.”

“I...” She started, and then sighed, lowering her chin. “I simply didn't want for us to start this new world in ignorance. I hoped that we could move together into a world of truth, without superstition and fear. We should never become what the Elvhen were. I should not become...”

“What the Evanuris were. Slavers, warmongers, tyrants.” The seer supplied, sympathetically. “That fear will keep you honest, Lady. Never lose sight of it. You have been given a gift to save the People, and you are using it to try and save everyone. It's only natural to feel stretched thin. Come now, don't let their words worry you.”

“Yes, I suppose the world will give me something else to worry about soon enough. It generally does.” She murmured, wryly. “Thank you for your company and council, seer. I will see you at the Hahren'al tomorrow.”

The old woman nodded placidly, turning her dark eyes back to the dancing as she drew on her pipe. The Lady rose, head feeling a bit light as she slipped into the trees, leaving behind the chatter and laughter, the music. Freedom did not follow her, he had long since learned that this was a burden she did not want lightened. He would probably pester her later about it, however. It did no good, the responsibility was hers and she had to learn to bear it. She'd made the choice, and all these consequences...were hers.

She could see the future stretching out before her if she could not change something, and it was terrifying her.

Was this how he had felt, when he created the veil? The thought chased her through the darkness, as she sought the privacy of her aravel. Would she be the enemy some day?

Abelas met her halfway there, and they walked together for a time in silence. He watched her sidelong as her pensive mood lingered longer than it usually did, finally giving a faint sigh and catching her arm. She resisted for a moment, and then turned towards him, shoulders slumping.

“Ellana.” His frown was thoughtful this time.

“You only call me by my name when I've been a pain.” She sighed, and he released her arm, glancing skyward contemplatively.

“Hm. I suppose that is true.” He allowed, and she smiled faintly. “But this time it is hardly your fault, Lady. I will make the suggestion that he leaves in the morning.”

“He might have other things he needs to talk to me about. I shouldn't be so hasty to brush him away just because it's difficult for me. Just because I...” She turned back to walk again, shaking her head slowly. Anyone could be listening. It was no time to be making confessions. “I'll be all right, Abelas. It's never going to get easier, so I'll have to come to terms with it. Hope is leaving with him.”

The sentinel stopped, but she didn't, pacing onward through the dark trees until he caught up again. The glow of her lanterns through the trees were visible now, her halla sleeping drowsily next to the entrance to the tent, their heads hanging.

“Interesting.” He finally replied, and she gave a short laugh at his terseness.

“Yes. That is...one way of putting it. I'm...” She stopped, shaking her head at the melancholy note in her own voice. “I'm fine.”

She paused as they came to the lit clearing, her gaze shifting aside and then up at him. Teasingly, she reached up and tugged on the end of his braid, trying to banish her own dark mood by pricking at him. He shifted his golden eyes down to her, and frowned.

“Will you stay tonight?” She asked hopefully, trying to keep her voice effortless.

He was silent for a few long moments, and her hand dropped, eyes finding the darkness, listening to the chirruping of insects and the distant sounds of laughter and music.

“No. Not tonight.” He finally replied, giving her shoulder a faint squeeze, a rare bit of casual affection.

Regretfully she watched his form as it disappeared into the shadowy forest, and then turned to head for her aravel. Another long night with little sleep, no doubt. Her head felt too muddled and muddied for anything besides unhappy dreams. Instead she found her small folding cot, covered her face with her pillow, and screamed until her voice failed her.

In the morning, the Dread Wolf and his people were gone.

They did not see one another again for over three years.


	7. Chapter 7

Solas would be hard-pressed to say that he avoided coming to Arlathan. It was not at all like those distant memories that had concerned him when he had given them permission to build. They had made something new, something more suited to the new world they had found themselves in. It was simply not his home. Tarasyl'an Te'las was his again now, where he kept himself separate from his people as they tried to find the shape of their new world. He had enough of interfering, and the whispers the far corners of the world brought him only made him more sure of that.

It was not so far away as to be inconvenient, even if he did not have use of the eluvians. He had been lucky that so many of his people had survived Uthenera, and luckier still that Mythal had been waiting for him when he had awoken. Her sacrifice weighed heavy upon him, but he had done his best with the gift she had given him. Knowledge, power, and a future for the Elvhen. He would not waste it.

The world was whole, but covered in wounds that needed healing. It was unfortunate that he and the Lady argued so much over how precisely they should be handled. She had been...unpleasant as of late, her missives terse, enigmatic. Still, Hope was his constant companion, offering a quiet word when the burden became too heavy. The spirits seemed at home in Skyhold, and they did not bother his solitude.

Her people had become more savage, more aggressive, if such a thing was possible. Maybe it was because they grew at more than twice the rate of his own, even with the infusion of new blood. Clan Ralaferin was becoming a problem on his western border, pushing into territory that did not belong to them. It was not the Elvhen's fault that they were having trouble with the dragons, which bred even faster than the People, if such a thing was possible.

It had also been a lucky thing that the Lady had asked to meet, because her terse responses had made it impossible to solve any of this.

War.

It always lingered on the edges, a threat that he was quite sure neither of them actually wanted. Nothing in her actions suggested she did. Every time they wrote, every report he received, it became clearer and clearer that both of them were trying desperately to avoid it.

And yet neither of them wanted to bend.

It was not a situation that suggested a happy ending. Even so, her request had been demandingly firm. She had never ask to travel into the heart of Elvhen lands before. How could he say no? He had always gone to her, and the reciprocation indicated some sort of change. It was likely a weakness to admit that he was fascinated by the puzzle she presented. The fact that she would never answer any of his questions made it all the more intriguing. He had gathered every iota of information on her that he could, and still none of it added up to a picture of the woman herself.

Perhaps it had something to do with the Andrastians. He was all too aware of what they had made him into, the stories reaching him even in his solitude. The villain again, for a new god, a new people. He had saved his own, and had become the enemy of all others. And yet, despite their both being elves in the eyes of the humans, they made her to be some sort of savior, the antithesis to him. It was a strange and unexpected doctrine, though more curious than insulting. She had given him no personal signs of aggression, even with her hatred. Only challenge, not hostility.

It had become even more important now that they fortify their position, and incursions from the people made that a difficult proposition. He could not fight the entire world. Not without destroying it. If she truly wanted peace, she'd have to prove it.

Solas could only hope that the Lady would rein in her people before things grew any more tense.

He was surprised when the news came that they had arrived. Her people must have been close to two full clans strong, if his intelligence about their numbers had been accurate. The poor council was in uproar about the news, but calmed when they camped outside the city instead of expecting hospitality. Still, he was all too aware that their arrival had offended some sensibilities and manners, and wondered if that had been her intention. She seemed to delight in ignoring their conventions.

The new Arlathan was walled, and heavily so, his city of former slaves more untrusting and nervous than the old Elvhen had been. The Lady's People camped at the edge of the nearby wood, grown up thickly by magic, hiding the now-ruins of what had once been a place called Montfort. He would have preferred somewhere closer to the dark woods of the west, but his people were practical, and the roads of Orlais were still mostly intact.

It was, after all, their home and not his. He had to remind himself of that fact, despite the desire to protect them. Too many of the eluvians had been damaged and broken, and he still had not located them all. The roads were necessary, for now.

The Lady's people seemed in no hurry to contact them, and curiosity eventually drew him from the council hall to the walls. No one bothered him, it was generally expected that he would come and go as he pleased, and he knew most of the guards by name. They had all fought together, once, all but the very youngest of them.

There were a few of them clustered together atop the wall, watching the river below, chattering together in a small knot. They broke apart as he approached, and he waved off their salutes with a nod of his head.

“I wonder what is so interesting beyond the wall.” He remarked, taking note of more than a couple pairs of flushed ears. A faint shout in the common tongue came distantly from below, and he raised an eyebrow. There was more flushing.

Even more curious now, he stepped over to lean over the battlements, resting an arm on the smooth, magic-fitted stone. A clustering of youths near the river were watching the wall, dressed lightly in the Dalish fashion. From the buckets and other vessels, it seemed they were avoiding some chores.

One of them, a dimpled young man with an impish, fearless smile, cupped his hands around his mouth and called up, once the surprise from the group had died down.

“Oh look, it is a Wolf! Mercy, Lord Fen'Harel, mercy for the people!”

One of the sentries hid a small giggle, and he breathed out a faint sigh, hiding his own amusement with some strain. Young people would be young people, it seemed, no matter where they came from.

“Are you teasing my soldiers?” He called back, folding his arms together as he leaned a hip against the stone. “They have duties to attend to, just as you no doubt do.”

“We wished to invite them to dance tonight, Lord Fen'Harel, but they are being shy.” The bold young man shouted back. “Will you give them leave to come?”

“And what would your Lady think of that, I wonder?” He kept his voice casual, but it was a question he'd like the answer to. Judging her mood, at the very least.

“She said that we should! It is the first time we have had a chance to meet our cousins, after all!”

Now that was surprising enough to silence him, at least for a few moments. Arms folded still, he watched the group for a time before giving a small, nod of his head, mind already racing.

“Of course they may, if they like. As long as they can attend to their duties with a clear head the next day.” Pushing off from the wall, he gave his soldiers a significant look before turning to stride off, too thoughtful now to indulge in the lighthearted banter.

A claim to kinship, from the people? The implications of it were numerous and interesting. Some of the Elvhen would be offended by it, of course, without even considering the deeper meaning. If she wished to press it now, it could mean danger threatened them, and she needed his support. He would at least give her the courtesy of hearing her out, but his Elvhen were stretched thin enough as it was.

Then again, if she needed them, perhaps it would be the leverage he needed to force her to push her people back. It was useless to speculate until they had spoken.

He would have to wait.

Sunlight filtered in through the loose flaps of the thin tent anchored to her aravel, patches of golden fluttering across her vision as she slumped forward. His hands, dimpled into the flesh of her hips, gradually eased off their grip, wandering up to support her at the waist instead.

The sound of their breathing was loud in the sudden quiet, even with her face muffled against his bare, muscular shoulder. The heat of the day made the tent stifling, evening breeze not yet picked up enough to cool sweat-slicked skin. It made the strands of hair clinging to her neck prickle, and she squirmed, relaxing as his hand lifted to gather up the mass of it, twisting it up. She hadn't cut it in ages, and it was starting to get uncomfortably heavy.

“You should be getting to the river if you're going to wash, my Lady.”

Blowing out a sigh, she sat back into his lap, lifting her head and meeting golden eyes. Her expression must have been more sour than she intended, because Abelas lifted a brow questioningly.

“Nothing, I am just not looking forward to this meeting. I hate being the bearer of bad news.” She groused, but lazily. “Things were finally starting to settle again, and I didn't want to show this part of my hand, so to speak.”

Bracing herself on his shoulder, she pulled to her feet, quelling a small shudder as he slid free of her, leaving a slick smear on her inner thigh. Some of her tension had eased, but her heart was still restless and unhappy. The sight of the new Elvhen city had dug up some uncomfortable feelings all over again, especially after their trek past the ruins of Val Royeaux.

Swinging her leg over his hip, she stepped away from the table and went to fetch the thin underdress that would have to do as a robe. She wasn't going to get dressed just to take it off again to wash. Idly as she pulled it over her head, she turned to watch him stand and move to the basin, lips twisting to the side. Unsurprised, but still disappointed.

“Not going to join me?” She asked out of habit, not because she expected a different answer.

“Sentry appointments.” He reminded her simply, and she made a small sound of understanding as she loosely tied the dress under her breasts. “I'll send Orana.”

“If he sends anyone from the city, just settle them in with something to eat. Otherwise just do as we planned and send up the invitation.” She instructed as she slipped out, leaving before she let herself get too distracted.

But not without one last peek over her shoulder, admiring his bare back for a few seconds before letting the tent close. Still important to enjoy the little things in life, after all. Especially a rear end sculpted that perfectly.

The herd of halla that had joined them for this journey were between her and the river, and she greeted them affectionately as she wandered through them. She endured the curious noses and whuffs from the ones she wasn't acquainted with, obediently admiring fawns that came to see if she had anything for them.

Hanal'ghilan joined her at the edge of the water, the golden-pelted halla lowering her head to drink as the Lady stripped out of her dress. Here the offshoot of the river widened into a small, sluggish pond, edges thick with blood lotus. Pacing into the water, she shivered as the chill caressed sweaty, over-heated skin, and then slumped gratefully into the water.

She sank under, keeping her eyes open to watch the world shift from late afternoon sunlight to green tinted and wavering. Letting out a sigh with a little cascade of bubbles, she scrubbed fingers against her scalp for a few moments, and then pushed off the stony ground.

Breaking the surface with a sigh, she wasn't surprised to see Orana already navigating the drowsy herd, arms full and a toddler clinging to her skirts. She watched them for a few moments with a smile, until Hanal'ghilan abruptly blew a mouthful of water in her face. Turning her outraged stare on the halla, she splashed a handful of water at the graceful beast, and was rewarded with an undignified snort and step back.

“You started it.” She told the halla as she stepped back out of the water and shook water from her coat with a shiver. “Do not start wars you are not prepared to fight to the end, my gilded Lady!”

“Wise words.” Orana remarked with a faint, thin smile, her son toddling over to cling to a leg of the tolerant animal. “Sentinel Abelas said you don't wish to wear the dress that was sent to you? It is very pretty, Lady.”

“And heavy, and hot. Protocol be damned, this summer is abysmal. If the children can run around in tunics and bare legs, than so shall I.” She pushed wet hair out of her face with both hands, and then reached out to accept the soap she was offered, scrubbing up as her maid settled down on a rock.

“Ah, well, as long as you do not think the Elvhen will be offended...” Orana remarked, a little nervously, unfolding the Rivani-style tunic she'd been favoring. Sensible garments, if not precisely modest.

“Pants are unnecessary burdens, Orana.” She remarked cheekily, more to see the woman fluster than anything else. “We must keep our dear Elvhen cousins from getting too stuffy. If we are all going to work together, they'll have to get used to us.”

“I think that is only your excuse for being shocking, my Lady.” Orana replied, playful meekness hiding a hint of a bite.

The Lady laughed, her briefly heartfelt mirth filling the air. A pleasant sound, too rarely heard as of late.

The invitation had come a couple hours before sunset, delivered to the gates by one of her Sentinels. She had been kind enough to invite all of his council, though that had only affronted the oldest of them more. The Lady came to visit Arlathan, the heart of the new Elvhen people, and invited them out to her savage camp on their lands. He had reminded them that their manners were not of the Elvhen, but it had done little good.

Solas was only grateful that they'd chosen to refuse the invitation, instead of coming with a grudge. It was a sign of how much they trusted him, at the very least. A good thing to keep an eye on, as his people grew away from their dependence on him. His retinue was small as he left the city, though he was well aware many of the Elvhen had already gone to join the people.

The camp was noisy and boisterous as he remembered it being, music and dancing already in full swing, the scents of food in the air. They were directed away from the heart of it, however, to a place already set up and awaiting them. As was the Lady.

Bare-legged and once again with her hair twisted into braids and complications wound with wilting flowers, she lounged casually in a chair at the head of the table. Suddenly he was intensely grateful the council had for the most part refused the invitation. He couldn't imagine how offended they'd be by her right now. Despite the state of undress and the casual air, he could find no fault with her manners. The greeting she rose with was pleasant and polite, and he returned it with equal ceremony before they settled.

And he was intensely grateful that they had, because the sight of those long, bare legs was incredibly distracting. It was certainly the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now. If it had been a tactic, however, it was an effective one, because he didn't notice the man settling next to her until he had fully seated himself. Not the Sentinel, who was only just arriving, but a man with barely greying temples and a pair of eyes far too old and tired for his face.

A blue and grey set of armor, the gryphon insignia. Warden. Human.

Once the sentinel had arrived, she gestured to the Warden, voice pleasant and lilting.

“You have met Sentinel Abelas and the Hahrens, of course, Lord Fen'Harel, but I would make known to you Warden Commander Carver Hawke.” She introduced, dipping her head. “Warden Commander Hawke and his men have been working with the dwarven Legion of the Dead, monitoring the Deep Roads for me.”

A fact he had not been aware of, which meant she had been hiding it from him. His eyes hardened, but he kept his face neutral otherwise. The Wardens...had she been hiding them from him? If so, why? The Deep Roads...surely they hadn't been looking for...

“I see.” He finally replied, neutrally. “And what, precisely, have they been monitoring for, Lady?”

“The darkspawn, of course. Whatever else could they be?” Her smile remained pleasant, but the slight tilt of her head spoke volumes. Oh, they would certainly have to discuss this. In private, it seemed. “Orzammar has taken in any surface dwarves that would go and barred itself from the rest of Thedas. Kal-Sharok stands empty. It must be monitored closely. The world cannot survive a blight now.”

“The darkspawn are behaving oddly.” The Warden Commander declared, Ferelden-accented voice roughened, flat. “We won't see any for weeks, and then we're pinned down by hundreds of them. They're picking us off, and we don't have the numbers to hunt down what they're doing.”

“You think they are...searching for an archdemon?” He seemed to recall that's what they called them. The past thirteen years had been educational, but sometimes it was difficult to recall all the new names they had chosen. Centuries of history to learn.

“Think it's a real possibility.” The Warden Commander retorted, voice undeniably cold and bitter. “Someone's got to figure it out before it's too late. I know you people don't think much of the rest of the world, but you're in just as much danger from the Blight as the rest of us. And the Lady thinks you can help.”

The hostility in the man's voice was understandable. He tried not to let it affect him overmuch. The Lady herself was still watching him, expectantly, likely to see how he'd react. She did seem to keep setting him up to test him.

“It is certainly a matter to be discussed. Not tonight, however. I can take it to the council in the morning.”

The Lady inclined her head with a gracious smile, and swayed to her feet. It was the signal to rise, and everyone took it. A short conversation, but obviously only the opening to further talks. It wouldn't be the first time they'd conducted things in this fashion.

“I hope your people can stay and enjoy the evening, Lord Fen'Harel. It is a pleasant one.” She remarked, smooth and blandly inoffensive. “Perhaps you would care to go for a walk with me?”

Amusement and surprise twisted together in the barest hint of a smile, and he inclined his head to her. The inquiry provoked some quiet murmuring from around the table, and his response a little more. Of course, if they had read her reactions the way he had, they would not have been so shocked.

“Of course, Lady, it would be my honor.” He replied with careful formality, and was rewarded with an amused twitch of her lips before she stifled it.

Inclining his head to the table, he turned to pace off into the woods as she made her way around to him. He kept his eyes on the way ahead, hands clasped behind his back. The night was silent and dark, heavy with summer heat, and suddenly he became aware that not a single spirit had greeted them since they had arrived. A curious thing, but all of his thoughts on the subject were pushed aside abruptly as she spoke, low and quiet.

He had been dreading the question, but expecting it all the same. In fact, he had been expecting it for some time, but he still found his stomach sinking as she murmured it into the humid air.

“Fen'Harel, where are the Evanuris?”

They walked a time in silence, The Lady patient, her eyes fixed somewhere ahead of them. It was a question she deserved an answer to, but their acquaintance was full of those, and so far none of them had been asked or answered. He couldn't remember if they had ever actually been alone together, she seemed to studiously avoid it. A crack in the wall between them. He wondered what would spill from it.

They paused once, as she listened to a melancholy song wandering through the trees, but her expression was hidden from him.

He waited until it died away.

“What do you know?” He finally asked her in return, and she gave a small noise of amusement under her breath.

Another pause then, and she turned to follow the sound of the river to their left, bare feet silent. A strange peace between them, despite the topic of conversation. The heavy night was somehow soothing, the weight of the heat bearing down and making everything languid. She seemed sorrowfully serene, and it echoed in her voice.

“His crime is high treason. He took on a form reserved for the gods and their chosen, and dared to fly in the shape of the divine.” She recited quietly, and he let out a slow breath. “You know what the darkspawn can do, and have done to these Old Gods of Tevinter. Frankly, I do not care if the humans stole the knowledge from the Evanuris, or were gifted it.”

“It may have been both. It is the oppression of the Evanuris that created those spirits, after all. The humans needed their own gods, and so the world provided.” He allowed, more out of ignorance than an attempt to be crafty. This was not a subject to dance around. “But whatever they built themselves into, that was of their own doing, in the end. Much like what the Evanuris became.”

“People will turn to worship too easily in times of great disaster.” She agreed, voice low and somewhat strained. His eyes shifted aside at her in the darkness, and saw the sorrow still there, deep and untold.

Yet again, she had surprised him. So, she did not want this after all. A strange kinship between them in that moment, as they both acknowledged the truth of it as their eyes met. Neither of them wanted this. And yet...it was unavoidable, for now. Belief shaped the Fade, and he had torn down the veil. It would echo the hearts and minds of all people, for better or worse.

Not for the first time, he wondered what it was that had made her into what she was, what power she wielded over the people. Was it merely words, or something more?

“That does not excuse what people choose to do with that worship.” He mused, hands clasped behind his back. “The Evanuris are...safe.”

“Until the darkspawn find them.” She murmured in contradiction, shaking her head. “You locked the Evanuris beyond the veil, in their slumber there. The Old Gods slumbered in the world. The Evanuris are far more powerful now than the remains of the Old Gods. They will find them, the power sings.”

“The darkspawn are mindless carrion-feeders who scurry through the depths of the world hunting echoes.” He replied, keeping the scorn from his voice. “The Evanuris are uncorrupted...apart from the corruption they themselves chose.”

“Hmmh.” She replied, musingly quiet. “Are you certain of that?”

He glanced to her profile again, watching the shift of her thoughtful eyes as she narrowed them. The lines of her delicate Vallaslin were nearly invisible in the dark, and he found it reassuring. Her steps had paused, and she turned to face the nearby river, a few small flowers slipping free of her hair, fluttering to the ground. He resisted the urge to lift his hand and catch one.

“Regardless, that is not precisely true.” The Lady finally spoke again, slow and careful. “The high priests of the Old Gods have retained their sanity and their faculty for thought, despite being corrupted into darkspawn. They can control the horde, direct them.”

He said nothing, merely waited. It was another crack, something new she wished to share with him. He would hear it, at the very least.

“There is one who wishes to become a god. He was imprisoned, as he cannot be killed, but he was released some time before the world fell. Your new world is his perfect opportunity.” As always, that particular turn of phrase bothered him, but there was little he could do about it at this point. “He is the most powerful of all of these ancient Magisters, and I have little doubt that he will find your Evanuris if given the chance, and will corrupt them.”

“You believe this darkspawn Magister could corrupt the Evanuris into...archdemons, as you call them? And somehow control them?” The idea was utterly ludicrous, of course, but at the same time worrisome. “I cannot simply release them from their imprisonment. Even though I have saved them, that does not mean I believe they should be released. They may be weakened, but they are still far too powerful, and I do not know what their long slumber has done to them.”

“You saved them, you will not release them, nor will you kill them. Tell me, Fen'Harel, did you actually know what you would do with the Evanuris when you took down your veil again?”

She let the question linger in the air, her eyes turning away from him to watch a flurry of pale green wisps dancing with the fireflies that darted through the trees. The heavy air hadn't lightened even now, though the river made it slightly cooler here than it was elsewhere.

“No.” He finally admitted, offering knowledge for the knowledge she had shared with him. “I had thought that I would have time. Their crimes are many, none of them are innocent, but...neither am I. I still do not know if I have the right to judge them, after what I have done.”

It was perhaps a foolish thing to admit to someone who hated him, but he had been alone for so long...even this hint of kinship between them was something he craved. They spoke of things that would shatter the world, but her company was still oddly pleasant. She had surprised him before, but what she said then surpassed it all, accompanied by a sad, breathy sigh.

“Oh, Fen'Harel.” The sympathy throbbed deep in her voice, shocking in its intensity. This from a woman who hated him? It defied all his expectations, something she seemed to make a habit of. “Your heart is so heavy even now that you have what you wanted. Perhaps it was right that my Hope go with you.”

His mind blank, he stood in silence as she turned away and paced off through the darkness without him. He became aware as she slipped away that he was not alone, a greenish spirit lingering at his side now. A turn of his head met the sight of a small, papery violet flower being offered to him, left behind by the Lady. Against his better judgment, he accepted it from Compassion, lowering his chin in a nod.

“It hurts to hope, but hoping helps, a burden too heavy for heart or shoulders.” The spirit whispered to him, momentarily gaining more substance before flickering at the edges, losing his coherence.

“That is often the way of things.” He agreed, examining the small flower in the darkness, its petals verdantly tinged from the light of the spirit. “Many of the things that hurt us are what we need the most.”

“Burdens shared are halved, freeing, feeling together. Secrets are heavy, deep under the ground.” The little hitch in the spirit's voice was oddly emotional, a pained catch somewhere deep in it. “Why let them stay?”

“Sharing burdens requires trust, Compassion. It is the nature of the world that sometimes it is impossible.” He kept his voice gentle, in deference to the delicate nature of the spirit. Compassion was far too rare to risk harming.

“Seeds must be planted to grow...but my name is Cole.” The spirit told him, much to his surprise. The Lady had referred to Compassion as such before, but he thought it was an affectation.

“My apologies, Cole.” He turned his attention across the river again, breathing in the brief brush of a late night breeze. Rare enough to not enjoy, in this world that was left to follow its own will.

Her people were strange, regaining their power and the strength of what had once made them the same as the Elvhen...but they pressed no influence on the mutable world. Fade and reality flowed together, and the Elvhen manipulated it as naturally as breathing, bringing the world to them, letting it conform to their desires. In contrast, her People seemed to move through the world, accepting it as it was and fighting through what they could simply change.

He wondered if they even knew what they were doing. Then, he wondered which way was better.

Another question with no answer.

“Travel with or swim against.” Cole said, the spirit's gaze locked on the river, much as his was.

“Often the only choices to be made.” He agreed, gaze shifting back down to the small flower, turning it in his fingertips.

“Not always.” The spirit replied, and then slipped away, wavering between the trees, and quickly disappearing out of view.

Left alone, he settled down at the edge of the river to think. In time, Hope came to find him, and they sat in silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Last Flower of Nevarra**

There is a city in Nevarra where the flowers would not bloom.

There is a city in Nevarra where dead rise from their tombs.

Without flame and without earth,

They laid them down with things of worth.

There is a city in Nevarra that the dead consumed.

There was a Seeker of Nevarra who did forward bravely ride.

There was a Seeker of Nevarra who stood against the tide.

With her love and with her blade,

The unquiet dead she'd hunt and slay,

There was a Seeker of Nevarra who watched her homeland die.

The Lady of the People into the city came,

The Lady of the People with her mournful heart aflame.

She asked them would they stay,

And stop their angry blades.

And the Lady she would show them all another way.

The Seeker of Nevarra would not let her heart be swayed.

That brave Seeker of Nevarra would not bend nor would obey.

Her love he fought and died,

And hopeless vengeance did she cry,

The Seeker of Nevarra threw herself into the fray.

The Lady looked upon the death and saw no way besides,

The Lady of the People gathered those who were alive.

The cleansing flame she summoned down,

And burned the city to the ground.

The Lady razed the broken land, where no one did survive.

There is a city in Nevarra that was built of tombs.

There is a city in Nevarra that was lost to death and gloom.

In the ash a single grave.

A monument to hold the brave.

There is a city in Nevarra where a lonely flower blooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! <3 Life is a lot so I am not being very interactive but I shall try to do better


	9. Chapter 9

The message had come early, borne by a single runner without a guard. That was unusual enough, but the contents of the note were even more, when The Lady rose from her lonely cot to accept it from Orana. Her maid was slightly displeased that the Lady awoke alone, she seemed happier when Abelas was there. It certainly wasn't her place to say anything.

“We have been invited inside. Will wonders never cease.” The Lady remarked with some surprise, under her breath, and then lifted her voice to the blonde elven woman. “Hmmnh. Could you send word to Abelas and the Commander, please? As well as the Hahrens. Let them know they are going in to the city mid morning. We do not need guards. May as well return the courtesy.”

“It...of course, Lady.” Orana replied, and shook her head as she gestured expectantly. “No, I did not have anything to say. Just that...everyone knows that you spoke alone with him last night. Did you say something to change his mind?”

“Perhaps I did, or perhaps he changed his own mind. Or perhaps the fact that half of the younglings have been sneaking into the city already with their new friends...” She smiled discreetly as Orana flushed, shaking her head. “Curiosity is natural. This is exactly what I wanted.”

“My Lady?” Orana asked gently, head tilting to the side. “What do you mean?”

“People will be people, Orana. All you have to do is give them a chance.” The Lady turned away, rubbing at her lower back as she examined her breakfast. “I don't need help dressing...but no, I will try not to scandalize anyone.”

“Do you promise?” She asked dubiously, only making the Lady laugh, bright and breezy.

“Shoo. Tsk. What would our stuffy cousins think, to hear you talk to me like that?” She teased, and then chuckled mirthfully at the look it got her. “Yes, I promise. Go tend to your son and send those messages. I'm sure little Garrett is fussing for his breakfast.”

“He eats more than I do.” Orana agreed with a sigh, turning to slip out of the tent with the Lady's laughter following after her.

Orana was quite used to the roving ways by now, though it had taken her some time. Still, Hawke had said she'd be safest with the Lady, and her agreement had been reluctant all those years ago. Now she was quite grateful, knowing what had happened to most of the rest of the world. Here she had family and freedom, both things she had once assumed she would never have. She couldn't even grasp the concept of it when Hawke had freed her and taken her in. How times had changed.

Sometimes she wondered if it was the sentinel's long sleep that made many of them so quiet and self-contained, or if it was just the way of the other people. Elvhen. She meant Elvhen. It wouldn't do to be disrespectful, not with the Lady working so hard to make everyone get along. Not that the sentinels weren't the Lady's people, but they were different, and not only physically.

There wasn't specifically a sentinel's camp any more, not with so many having families now, but they tended to gather together to break their fast, to plan work at the very least. Garrett was perched on his papa's armored knee, babbling no doubt about whatever insects he had found that morning. Her son was such a pretty boy, she admired unabashedly, with his golden hair and golden eyes, skin browned dark by the summer sun. He was going to be so much taller than her.

“Message?” Vareth asked her simply, and she nodded, slightly concerned with his frown. “You haven't been given time to eat?”

The fact that he'd cared enough to ask flustered her for a moment, and his brows drew in towards his proud nose as she stared at him. It was Garrett that broke through her surprise, shouting happily about a passing butterfly. She blinked, and then managed a small smile.

“I've had some tea. There was a very early messenger, I haven't had time.” He frowned again, and she smiled at it. “I will once I've given word to everyone I need to. Where is Abelas?"

“Down at the river.” Vareth swung to his feet, catching Garrett under his arm before the little boy could tumble. She smiled as he squalled, kicking his legs delightedly as he was heaved about like a parcel. Heading over to the fire, he picked a sweet roll out of a basket and offered it to her,

“Thank you.” Oddly touched by the simple gesture, she took it in both hands and smiled, nodding her head.

He was staring at her rather intently, and so she waited. Patience was one of her best skills, after all, and she knew it sometimes took him a while to speak. It had taken him almost two months of sharing a fire in the evenings before he'd said a single word to her. She'd wondered for the longest time if he hated her or found something strange about her, staring in silence when she was encouraged to play her lute, not responding to her tiny overtures of friendship. He was a bit withdrawn even now that they shared a child, but she knew it was just reserve. And not a little shyness, which she would never cease to find endearing. While she waited, their son was busy climbing his father's arm like a tree, as fast as his clumsy little arms could manage.

“Mairi said I have not been...very kind to you. I hadn't realized I wasn't.”

She blinked twice, letting the words sink in. Unkind? Maybe if she had been more demanding of his time, but she hadn't. Maybe that was her fault, but it certainly wasn't his.

“You are very busy, and I haven't wanted to bother you. It's enough of a burden that you have to look after Garrett on your own so much, and I know you value your quiet time in the evenings.” He was speaking so stiffly that it was almost funny, but she knew it was the wrong time to smile.

“Taking care of our son is not a burden to me, and you aren't either.” She finally replied, once it seemed clear that he was done talking. “Or a bother. If you're uncertain of it, you can always...ask me.”

“I am.” He pointed out, and that's when she couldn't hide the smile.

“Our son is three years old. When had you planned on bringing it up if Mairi hadn't said anything? When you became a grandfather for the first time?” She kept her voice lighthearted, trying not to drive the teasing home too deeply. It was true, though, he seemed to do everything at a pace just short of glacial.

The faint flush she remembered with fondness crept up in his cheeks, under the Vallaslin he still wore. Obediently holding out her arms as Garrett leaped from his father's shoulders to her, she caught the toddler with a faint huff of breath, setting him down and avoiding his grab at her roll. Splitting it, she offered him half instead, all while watching Vareth expectantly.

“I suppose.” He finally allowed, and she let her smile creep back to her lips. “I should not keep you from your work any longer.”

She nodded, turning away to head to the river. She'd gotten a dozen steps away when an impulse made her turn back to him, watching as he pulled Garrett away from the fire. The fact that there were others at the camp would have stopped her once, and likely would have stopped her even now if not for his words to her. It had been an effort on his part, she could do no less.

“I...” She started, meeting his eyes as he glanced up to her again. “I'd like to have another child, before Garrett gets too much older. A daughter would be nice. Or another son.”

Once the surprise faded from his eyes, he nodded silently to her, with the smallest edge of a smile touching his lips. She returned it, and then turned to continue on her way, eating her half of the roll. Yes. He did look very handsome when he blushed. She thought she might tell him so, next time she wanted to see it again.

It had been foolish to come down to the river when she could have delivered the other messages first and then come back. Red cheeked, hands over her eyes, she tried not to laugh at Abelas' flustered sigh. This wasn't exactly the first time they'd been in this situation, and last time it'd been worse. Last time she'd walked in on him AND the Lady. She didn't know what annoyed him more, the fact that she was so embarrassed by it, or the fact that it kept happening.

“Please be kind to Orana, the Lady tells me. She is very meek.” The tone of his voice was what finally pushed her over the edge, and she started giggling.

“Ma serranas, Abelas.” She replied, between her little tremors of mirth.

“I believe you mean 'ir abelas'. You would think in the past decade your elven would have improved.” He responded mildly, as she listened to the sounds of him getting dressed.

“No, I didn't mean that.” She responded, and then started laughing all over again at his faint grumble. “It is a pleasant sight to start a morning with, I can see why the Lady favors it.”

Why she felt comfortable with him, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was because she saw him in situations no one else besides the Lady did. His frowns did not bother her, and she actually preferred his quietness to the more boisterous people. It was amusing to needle at him, just a little. He was good for practicing being cheeky at.

“Orana...” His warning over her laughter was a little strained, and she peeked between her fingers to greet his frown. “Message?”

“You are invited into the city today, with the Lady, the Commander, and the elders. The Lady does not wish to take a guard.”

She knew he wouldn't like it, his frown deepened almost instantly, and she prepared herself for the return message. He'd have something to say about that without a doubt, but as he closed his mouth again, jaw tight, it didn't seem he'd be sharing it with her.

“Thank you, I will go see the Lady. Could you have my breakfast sent there, when you get a moment?”

“Of course.” She murmured as she turned and fled, torn between giggles and concern as she paced back up the bank, grass soft underfoot.

Hopefully their arguing over it wouldn't upset the Lady too much. Still, when she paused at one of the camps to direct Abelas' breakfast, she made sure that they sent the Lady's favourite tea and some sweets as well. Anything she could do to help things go smoothly. He wouldn't win the argument, of course, but he would try. She wished he would have been able to, though, she agreed that going in to the Wolf's city with no guards had given her some concern. Not her place to say anything, but she was glad he felt the same. Perhaps he would make her be cautious.

She never could quite understand why the Lady was so unafraid of Fen'Harel, and taught everyone else not to be. He had destroyed the world, after all, it wasn't as if there was no reason.

Word was gotten to the elders quickly enough, they were not difficult to find, but the news made them visibly uneasy. She left them gossiping quietly, and crossed through the trees to where the Wardens were. People said they'd been friendly enough, if exhausted and gruff. She hoped they'd gotten some rest. She'd wanted to speak to Commander Hawke, but had felt a little awkward doing so. What if he didn't remember her?

Their camp was rather haphazard, and oddly free of spirits, though she had no doubt a few of them had been nosy at one point or another. They tended to be.

“Message for the Commander.” She told the woman on watch, a dwarf with faded, intricate tattoos across her scarred face. She wondered if they were anything like Vallaslin. “From the Lady.”

“Oh, sure.” The dwarf agreed with a little grin, and then called over her shoulder, “HEY! CARVER!”

Wincing, Orana tried not to let her smile falter. When the grin was turned back on her, she managed to return it, though her ears were still ringing a little.

“He'll be a minute. It has been a while since we got a good night's sleep and a full meal. Nice to be on the surface again, too. Smells a lot better up here, that's for sure.” Her chatter was cheerful and effortless, a bit odd for one of their grim company. Odd, but welcome.

“Oh, have you been before?” She asked quietly, finding the smile an easy one to respond to.

“Yep. Long while ago, though, under a different commander. I'm Sigrun.”

“Orana.” She returned simply, nodding her head. “Have you had your breakfast sent to you, then? You have everything you need?”

“We're set. It's all been excellent, don't worry about us.” The dwarf assured her with a chipper smile, stepping back and aside as the Commander stalked over. “Hey, Carver, this is Orana.”

“Yes, we know one another.” He replied, nodding his head as Sigrun turned to the fire, and then shifted his attention back. “Good to see that you're well. I didn't realize you weren't working for my brother any more.”

“Not since Kirkwall fell, Commander. He thought it would be safer for me to go with the Lady.” She was puzzled by the fact that he didn't know, until she remembered that the Hawke brothers didn't precisely get along.

Memories from another life, it felt like.

“Than Tevinter or wherever he's inflicting himself on now? Likely true. They haven't been terribly friendly to the elves there for a while, have they?” He seemed to be musing to himself, as he quickly waved it off and continued on. “I've been underground too long, tend to lose track of things. Pretty bad when you start hoping for a Blight just so you can get some fresh air.”

Orana didn't quite know what to say to that, so she just waited. She was good at waiting.

“You had a message for me?” He finally asked, pulling himself out of his own head at last, blinking down at her. “I'm sorry, here I am rambling on at you.”

“That's fine, Commander. There's been an invitation from the Elvhen, to go to the city. The Lady asked if you could join them. Just you, Sentinel Abelas, the Lady, and the elders, no guards.” Again, that news got a frown, but in Carver's case it was more like a scowl.

“And she's just fine with that? Maker.” He tapped a hand against his thigh restlessly, and then finally sighed. “Alright, alright. I guess I'll go be the only human walking into an evil world-destroying god's heavily fortified city. I haven't made a sensible choice in years, why would I start now?”

“I will tell the Lady yes, then, Commander?” Orana finally suggested, once it became clear he wasn't going to give her a more concrete answer without being prodded.

“Yes. Please. Thank you.” He responded, and gave a small nod of his head. “And...it's just Carver, Orana, please. Titles don't mean much any more.”

Unsure what to say, she nodded and stepped back as he turned for the fire. She wondered if Carver would be offended if she mentioned how much he reminded her of his brother. Actually, no. She knew he would be. Still, it made her miss Messere Hawke a bit, made her nostalgic for Kirkwall. She wondered if he would visit the Lady any time soon. They used to get a lot more visitors, but everyone was so busy as of late. Even Varric hadn't been to visit since the Arlathvhen three years ago.

It made her worry that the Lady was lonely.

She had made it nearly to the aravel when she noticed a figure lurking under a tree, heavily cloaked and reading a book. A few curious spirits lingered near by him, and she realized after a moment that he was reading out loud to them. For a moment she was puzzled by the heavy hood in the drowsy summer heat, until she recognized the edge of his face under the shadow of it, as she approached. Ah, of course!

“Your timing is excellent, Dreamer!” She remarked, and he glanced up at her, startled out of his reading, and then smiled. “Have you gone to see the Lady yet?”

“I heard arguing and decided to wait a while. Hello, Orana.” He greeted, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with his friendly smile. “I could have warned her last night, but surprises are more entertaining.”

“Ah, so she doesn't know you were coming?” Frowning, she glanced over at the tent in front of the aravel, head tilting to the side. Joy briefly parted from the other spirits to circle around her, and she cast aside her frown to offer the pale violet spirit a smile instead, reassuringly. 

“They're done bickering. And no, but there's someone in the city I need to see, so I thought I would tag along. Do you want me to pass messages to her? I'll probably be occupying her time until we leave. If she needs anything, I'll make sure you know.” She didn't bother to ask how. Feynriel was quite friendly, but something about his abilities made her uneasy.

Silly, perhaps, considering she served the Lady, but she couldn't help it. She preferred to be the only person who knew what went on in her dreams.

“Just that everyone has agreed to go, even if the hahrens are being a bit antsy about it.” She replied after a moment.

“Understood. I doubt we'll be back before quite late, I'd spend the day with my family if I were you. I'm sure you've earned a bit of relaxation.” He suggested with a light smile, pushing off from the tree with a nod and pacing away. Only nosy Freedom followed him, the other spirits apart from Joy wandering off back among the other camps.

“Come, Joy.” She suggested affectionately to the lighthearted spirit, turning about. “Should we go find Garrett? I'm sure he'll be happy to see you.”

“May we play by the river, if we're careful? There's so many dragonflies this summer!” Joy asked, rousing a small laugh from her.

“Maybe. Let me talk to his father. It's probably time Garrett started learning to swim.” She finally agreed, as they headed back towards the sentinel camp. Joy darted ahead, disappearing quickly as she went to seek out her friend, and Orana followed more sedately.

It was a lovely day, after all. Maybe she could even get Vareth to spend some time with them. Or the whole day. It had been over a year since they'd really spent any time together. How odd, the way time was starting to drift by without being noticed. She wondered if this was how he always felt. It certainly would explain a lot.

Well, there was no time like the present to start rectifying things. No reason to let years slip by when they could be put to good use. He might not notice, but their son was a constant reminder that the world was still changing.

As she headed through the treesto join her family, her mind wandered back to the Lady's odd meeting that day, and what it could mean. Something far beyond her, she was certain of. Hopefully nothing bad.

The Lady had suffered enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I will edit the tags as I repost. If you're new to this reposted fic, well...welcome to the ride


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